


The Sound That Silence Makes

by amy_star



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-09
Updated: 2007-06-09
Packaged: 2018-09-20 05:13:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9477119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amy_star/pseuds/amy_star
Summary: Prompts:#42 - Sam doesn't know what they're hunting and no matter how he asks, no one will tell him#84 - Talk to me softly/There's something in your eyes/Don't hang your head in sorrow/And please don't cry (Don't Cry by Guns'n'Roses)





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the family_secret challenge. Some people and places are real; I'm just using them for my own nefarious purposes. Set late in Season 1 - pre-Sarah Blake. Title from the song "So Gently We Go" by I Mother Earth.  
> Much love to my betas, wenchpixie and mayalaen.

The miles flew by, acres of grassland giving way to farmers' fields, then arid desert. Sam had already asked where they were headed, only to receive a non-committal grunt from his brother. He had given up wondering the 'where' several states back in favor of the 'why,' but he wasn't getting any answers there, either.

Three days. Three days since Dean had received a call from Caleb. Three days on the road, heading westward, with barely a word from Dean aside from an occasional, "You hungry?" or "What's the next exit?"

Sam was sick of it. He had half a mind to just get out at the next rest stop and leave Dean to this... whatever, alone. He had a feeling that Dean wouldn't object, which scared the hell out of him. He let his eyes drift closed and rested his forehead against the window.

He felt, rather than saw, the car shift gears and slide over to the exit ramp. It was too early for Dean to be stopping for the night, so it had to be a gas-and-Mountain-Dew run. He sighed.

"Are you gonna tell me what this is about now? We can't go much farther west; we're almost in California as it is." Sam's voice was resigned, sure Dean wouldn't answer him. He was shocked when he actually got a reply.

"We _are_ going to California. Caleb needs us to do a job for him ASAP. I didn't want to tell you..." Dean's voice was gravelly, like he hadn't spoken for days - which wasn't that far off.

"Dean, we don't have to avoid the whole state just because..." Sam paused. "That's it, isn't it? We're going back to Stanford."

"Palo Alto. Not the campus."

"Dean, you could have told me! This silent act, all white-knuckled-on-the-wheel-for-the-last-three-days bullshit... what the hell was the point? I'm not going to fall apart over this, Dean. For Christ's sake - "

"I know you're a big boy and can handle yourself. I just..."

Sam huffed. "Just... I know you meant well, but don't keep things from me, okay? I mean, what were you going to do, blindfold me once you got within twenty miles of city limits and hope I wouldn't notice?"

"I hadn't gotten that far. I was still working on a plan." Dean grinned sheepishly.

"Okay, so what are we doing there?"

"I... I'm not sure." Dean was lying his ass off, Sam could tell. He let it slide for the moment; he didn't want Dean to shut down again.

"Well, what have you got? He must have given you some information to work with. I can't think of any local legends off the top of my head that aren't easily identifiable, so it's gotta be something new."

"Didn't give me much; just a handful of missing girls all disappearing from the same three block radius. He thinks they all might have been in the same anthropology class together; he's getting back to me with more details once we're in town and set up. He's wondering if there might have been a cursed object passed around or something, but since the disappearances have become more frequent in the last week... it might be something worse that's ramping up. I'm supposed to call Caleb back once we get checked in."

"Anthro... hmm. I think Becky used to take that class. Maybe I can give her a call and get the contact info from her about the department. I can go in and research at the library, too... I know where things are; I spent enough time there."

"Sammy, you don't have to. You can do interviews and footwork around town and leave the research to me. You're better with people than I am anyway, remember?"

"And I'm, like, a zillion times better at research than you are and I know the library. It's okay, Dean. I'll be all right."

"But... don't you want to try to avoid your friends and stuff? Kind of hard to explain where you've been for almost a year and why you haven't come back."

"I'll be okay. 'Sides, most of them have probably graduated and moved on. There are a couple I've kept in contact with anyhow, so it's not like I'm completely unprepared with no cover story."

"You sure, Sam? Because..."

"Dean. I get it. I'm not some delicate little flower, dude. I'll be fine. Now, how about you drop me off in front of the library and I'll call you if I find something?"

"Yeah. I'll grab us a room and give Caleb a call, get started on some interviews. Maybe you _should_ look up Becky." He waggled his eyebrows. "How _is_ Becky these days?"

Sam threw a napkin at Dean's head. "You're such an ass, Dean. She's way out of your league, and taken besides." He sighed, and pointed right. "Turn here. Let me off at the Starbucks; it's just a short walk from there."

"What? You ashamed to be seen with me?"

"More like afraid of what you'll get up to in a college town and I don't want to be mistaken for the owner of this car. It's not exactly inconspicuous, man."

"Bitch."

"Jerk. Okay, lemme out."

 

***

Dean watched as Sam walked swiftly across the street. Despite his bulking up and a slightly more aggressive stance, he still looked like the epitome of a college kid. He'd blend right in at the library. Dean felt bad about sending Sam on a wild goose chase, but he just hoped that Sam would take long enough to let him get the real job done.

Caleb had prearranged a place for them to stay, so they didn't have to bother with a motel. It gave him a little more time to figure out how he was going to pull off the greatest sleight of hand in Winchester history.

They weren't actually here for missing girls. Well, maybe in a way, but not the way he'd told Sam. Turns out, they rebuilt on the foundation of Sam's old apartment building. And now, there was something - someone - on the grounds. Dean was betting it was Jessica, especially considering what they'd found at their old house in Lawrence. He remembered what Missouri had told them about the house being a magnet for dark forces after a visit from the Yellow-Eyed Demon, so Dean had to get in and purify the place - no small task considering it was an apartment building instead of a single-family home - and then... well... he might have to go and dig up Jessica's grave. He'd already put Caleb to work for him at the last rest stop, and he was due to call any minute with the location and cemetery she was buried in. It was bad enough he'd had to drag Sam back here; he couldn't put him through a salt-and-burn of his dead girlfriend.

He planned on hitting the apartment during the day, hopefully while the tenants were all out at work. That also gave him some time to see if the purification had taken in the building. He really didn't want to have to dig her up - it didn't matter that he'd only met her once, she was Sammy's girlfriend and that made her almost family, and it just wasn't right disrespecting the grave of someone you knew. Besides, he couldn't blame her for being a vengeful spirit; their whole family was out for blood with that damned demon anyway. Being killed like that... no one deserved that.

He sighed, and pulled away from the curb. He still knew the way to the apartment, despite having been there only a couple times almost a year ago. He pulled over a block away and took a tan service uniform from the trunk. "Good thing Sammy is such a Boy Scout, making us keep these on hand," he muttered, awkwardly pulling it on over his jeans and boots. He swung a hammer into a belt loop and grabbed an old tool kit that he'd loaded with herb sachets the night before while Sam slept, and headed through an alley for the back door of the apartment building.

He was in luck, someone was exiting the place just as he was walking up the path and they held the door for him. Dean nodded in acknowledgement and slipped in, checking the listing of names on the board and matching them to the apartment numbers on the fire escape plan posted on the wall opposite. "Thank God it's only a three-story building," he said as he pushed open the door to the stairwell.

 

***

"Nine down, three to go," Dean muttered to himself. He'd been extremely lucky; so far all the apartments had been unoccupied and had only had simple locks to pick. He'd been able to make a small hole, stuff the bags in, and even use plaster of Paris to cover up most of the damage. He only had the basement and three ground-floor apartments to get to, and nothing had come up on his EMF yet. That was both good and bad - good because he could get in and out unnoticed, and not being thrown around by angry spirits was always a plus; bad because it looked like he was going to have to go out to the cemetery. He sighed again, running a hand over the back of his neck.

The next apartment was the one belonging to Dan, the man who'd contacted Caleb in the first place. He'd left Dean a key under the mat, as he'd gone to visit family until he got the all-clear to return. Dean used the opportunity to call Sam and check in with him.

"Got any news, Sam?"

"Not much. I got names of a couple professors to look up - Professors Voss and Hodder. Both have archaeological connections, and Becky says they're both interesting. Not much else. Not a lot in the way of local legends, and I'm just about to start hitting the papers for the accounts of the missing girls."

"I haven't found much either. I'm at Caleb's contact's place now, and then I've got one more interview. Say I pick you up in about forty-five minutes?"

"Sounds good to me. And I know a great Thai place, the Thai House..."

"Dude, on what planet do I eat Thai?"

Sam laughed. "Pizza better?"

"Damn straight. And pick a good place. Nothing that just does your fruity sauceless chicken and pineapple crap."

"Whatever. See you in forty-five."

 

***

Sam rubbed at the bridge of his nose with one hand. He'd almost forgotten how tiny the print could be in some of these books, and the dim lighting at his study carrel wasn't helping matters. He closed the book he'd been looking at and added it to the pile in the corner. He spun in his chair, planning to get up and find the newspaper archives, until he saw her. "Jess," he gasped.

The girl turned to look at him. It was her, exactly as he'd seen her the last time they'd been in the library together. He'd grabbed his favorite seat out of habit, and seeing her... "It... You... This isn't real."

She smirked and sauntered over. "I'm as real as you need me to be, baby," she said, leaning against the edge of the desk.

"Jessica... Jess... You _died_ over ten months ago. You can't be here."

"But I am. You know the deal, Sam. Violent death sometimes makes a person... linger."

"So, you're haunting me? Is that... I thought I saw you, months ago."

"Baby, I'm just here when you need me to be. You needed me then; you need me now."

"Now? What? Why? What are you talking about?"

"You need to go back to our apartment. Dean needs you."

"The whole place burned down. There's no apartment to go back to."

"They rebuilt. The same basement and foundation. And I'm not the only one... you really need to get over there, Sam. Dean's hurt."

"Dean... Where? Where is he?"

"The basement. And the other thing there? It's more powerful than I am. It's knocked him on the head pretty badly. Don't worry, I'll see you again, Sam," she said as she misted away.

"Jess?" Sam was still a little dazed. "Dean!" He grabbed his bag and took off at a run for his old apartment.

 

***

"Dean!" Sam called, throwing open the doors to the basement. "Dean! Where are you?" He pounded down the stairs, two at a time. He could still see some soot marks in the tiling on the stairs, but otherwise the basement was the same; laundry room to the left, storage grids to the right. He looked in the laundry area first, but there was nowhere Dean could be except maybe _in_ a washing machine, so he went into the storage space. "Dean!" It wasn't easy going - the grids were packed with bicycles and hoses and buckets and chests and boxes and deck chairs that had been put away for the season, all separated by unit number in chain link rectangles. A lot of space Dean could be wedged into, and a lot of stuff to cover him up. Finally Sam heard a muffled grunting coming from the north corner of the space.

"Dean!" Sam made a beeline for the noise, throwing aside old floor lamps and vaulting over a couple bicycles. He struggled to pull an old air conditioner off a pile of boxes in the corner.

"Mfwa? Mmph!"

"Hang on, Dean. As soon as I get... this... air conditioner..." He finally slid it free and tossed the boxes aside, revealing his brother.

"Sammy... How...?"

Sam slid to his knees and assessed Dean's injuries. A nasty cut down the side of his temple had bled all over, but didn't seem really serious aside from that. His shoulder had been pinned awkwardly; it was hard to tell if it had been dislocated or not. He was struggling to sit up, so his ribs were at least bruised, if not cracked. And his eyes were glassy, so there was a good chance he was concussed. Sam slid an arm behind Dean and pulled him to a sitting position, getting hisses of pain, not the expected protest, from his brother. "Cracked ribs?"

"I think so," Dean said, panting. "Sam... You gotta..." He made vague hand gestures at the wall behind him.

"What? What's going on, Dean?"

"Haunting. Here. I thought it was Jess... Couldn't tell you. But... something bigger."

Sam looked around and saw the open toolkit. "What... Purifying the place?"

"Like Lawrence. One here, and one in the west corner to go."

Sam nodded, and quickly put the sachet in the hole Dean had punched in the north wall. As soon as it was in place, a wind whipped up around them, screaming distantly heard from inside the maelstrom. Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean, who waved him off and had produced a sawed-off shotgun from somewhere. He mouthed, "Go!" at Sam, who ran over to the west wall. Behind him, he heard the shotgun going off once, then again before he managed to get a hole put in the wall that was big enough to fit the sachet into. He risked a look over at Dean, and saw a black tornado-like figure advancing on him, a bicycle spinning at the top. He slammed the sachet home into the wall, and the wind stopped abruptly, leaving the spinning tornado figure bleeding down into a black mass, vaguely man-shaped. It howled in displeasure, but seemed like it was mostly powerless now that the purification ritual was complete.

"What the hell is that?" Dean asked, staggering to his feet.

"Some kind of pissed-off spirit. Gotta be powerful if it withstood the ritual."

"What should we do? He seems pretty helpless now. Think he'll keep while we find out who he is? Or what?"

"I think so. I mean, he's just... standing there. Making noise. Maybe we salt-bind him and barricade off the basement?"

"Good plan. I'll keep an eye on him while you go get on a uniform and grab the caution tape and salt outta the trunk." The spirit howled again in protest. Sam just nodded and took the stairs two at a time.

He was back with the salt, tape and paper and a magic marker in record time. "What should we put this down to? Water problems?"

"This place have central air? We could switch it off and that would explain all the noise he's making."

"Doesn't look like it."

"Water it is. Come on, we'll take a look at the place upstairs, and I can show you what I've found out."

 

***

Dean winced as he took in the state of Dan's apartment. "Guess he needed to do some redecorating, huh?" The place was trashed; obviously the spirit was pissed that people were in its space and had thrown everything around. Dean cleared a space on the sofa to sit, while Sam pushed things off a chair.

"Dean, what the hell is going on here?"

"I guess I gotta come clean, huh?" He sighed. "The guy who lives here, he used to be a neighbor of Caleb's. Not a hunter, but he got the idea somehow that Caleb was the guy to call when a girl from this building died in the basement and weird shit started happening in his own apartment. His girlfriend was so scared she wouldn't come back, and a couple weeks after she split, things started happening to him, too. Screaming at all times of the day and night, wind even when the windows were closed, stuff moving on him; the usual poltergeist stuff. Then he started seeing ectoplasm, and he called Caleb. The building has only been open for three months, but Caleb got Dan to do a little preliminary research, and it turned up the fire and the fact that the assholes who rebuilt kept the basement largely intact and just built over it. Given the history, I knew right away it was your building. I didn't want to tell you... I was hoping you'd just use this time to visit with some of your old friends and I could do this in peace. Guess I underestimated things a bit."

"Dean, you almost got killed! You can't just take on these jobs and not tell me what's going on!"

"Dude, I was doing solo jobs for almost two years before Dad took off. That Dan guy isn't a hunter, I just figured he'd seen too much Ghostbusters. I thought it was gonna be simple - purify the place, and get the hell out. I also thought it might be Jessica... and I didn't want you to have to go through that."

"So you assume my girlfriend is haunting the place and you want to cut me out? That's great. Just great."

"You're angry? Why? Did you really want to do a salt and burn on her?"

"If it had been Jessica, she'd have had a lot of reason to be a vengeful spirit, with the way she died."

"Vengeful spirits don't usually throw air conditioners at people, either. What's your point?"

"My point is, salting and burning doesn't have to always be our approach. There are a lot of reasons people get tied to this existence. I coulda talked to her - told her to move on."

"And she always listened to what you told her while alive? Somehow I don't think so, Sam. If the purification didn't work we'd have had to dig her up. No matter what you say you would _not_ have wanted to see that, believe me. Not after less than a year in the ground, man."

"What if she was here but not interfering? She's not the thing in the basement. Would you still burn her?"

"Maybe. I don't know, Sam. And how are you so sure that's not her in the basement?"

"One: That thing is concentrating its attacks on the occupant of this apartment. We weren't in this one. Two: Mom appeared wreathed in flames in Lawrence; it doesn't make sense for Jess to have manifested in wind. It had nothing to do with her death. Three..." Sam took a long breath. "She appeared to me. In the library. It's how I knew where to find you. She sent me to you."

"She what? You're just telling me this now? Dude."

"What, you wanted me to wait on saving your ass to have a heart-to-heart about my dead girlfriend showing up at school?"

"Point. Still... man. This shows she's not at rest. Sam..."

"Let's focus on the problem at hand. She's not hurting anyone. She's helping us. Like Mom did. We gotta get rid of the thing in the basement first."

"Okay, okay. Obviously, it seems to be someone who either lived or died in this apartment."

"Except the building's been rebuilt. Same floor, just covered over with new flooring. So whatever happened, happened in the old building... but there was nothing happening in here when we lived here. I would have noticed."

"I got an idea. Go back outside and look at the threshold."

Sam stepped into the hall. "Okay... what am I looking for?"

"All the apartments on this floor are slightly raised, right? Because of the old floor. They retiled and shit in here, but used a cheaper and thinner flooring in the hallway, because no one cares what the _hall_ looks like. How high is this one raised?"

"Uh... looks like... maybe four inches?"

"That sound a little high to you, Sam?"

"Yeah. Actually, it does." He frowned. "How high are the other ones?"

"No more than two inches. Just enough to trip you up real good if you're coming home drunk." Dean grinned. "What do you say the chances are that our windy friend in the basement is buried under the old flooring here, and pissed about the new one? If they'd done the job right, they'd have found him."

"I'll get an axe from the car."

An hour later and Sam had hacked through the new floor and the sub-floor to reveal a couple trash bags wrapped inside an old carpet jammed in between joists in the floor. "Dude. That's seriously gross. How did it manage to avoid stinking up the place?"

Dean shrugged one shoulder, then winced as it drew on his sore ribs. "I dunno. But from the look of it, those've been there for like, at least twenty years."

Sam carefully rewrapped the trash bags in the carpet and pulled it out of the floor. "Okay, I think I know a place where we can go burn this. But you gotta deal with that, I had to carry... this... around." He made a face. "Dude. I can feel... squishing."

 

***

Dusk had fallen, but a warm breeze still ruffled Sam's hair. They were at a small park, mostly abandoned at this time of night in the middle of the week. Dean had dumped the remains into a trash barrel and was adding the last of the lighter fluid to the mix of bones, salt and the remainder of the soft tissue matter. "You want to do the honors?" He offered a pack of matches to Sam, who mutely shook his head no. Dean shrugged, then winced in pain before lighting the pack and tossing it in the barrel.

"You know, you should have someone look at your ribs."

"I hate hospitals. I'm good, nothing some Jack won't help me with tonight."

"And some serious taping. I mean it, Dean. I should drop you off at the ER, tell them I found you in the park minus your wallet. Pick you up in the morning. They'll probably give you drugs, too."

"No way. I'm not going."

"Come on. Don't be a stubborn ass about this. I can use the time to see some old friends, impress them with the car..."

"She is a sweet ride."

"And I know the ribs are hurting more than you let on. I'll drop you off, get you checked in, and tomorrow I'll be there with Starbucks as you sign yourself out AMA."

"You think I should?"

"Yeah, man. Let's get you taken care of. I'll go back and clean up the salt and make sure the ghost is gone, and then I'll drop you off."

 

***

The night was warm, even by late-September standards. Sam made the half-hour drive from campus out to Santa Clara with the windows down, then sat in the car for a few minutes before killing the engine. He slowly got out and made his way into the cemetery.

Mission City Memorial Park. Jess had been a California girl, through and through. Generations of Moores had been buried here, so despite missing her funeral, he knew exactly where to look. He slowly walked to her family plot, fiddling with his shirtsleeves.

He stopped a good twenty feet from her grave, unable to make the last few steps.

"Hey, stranger."

He turned to see her perched on a tombstone nearby.

"I didn't think you'd take so long to visit."

"I... I couldn't make it here before. Couldn't bring myself... I'm sorry, Jess. So sorry. I should have..."

"What? Burned along with me? That's noble of you. Dumb, but noble." She hopped off and walked over to stand side by side with him.

"I should have told you about my family. Should have let you know..."

"You didn't know that you'd bring your whole family's history with you. You had no way of knowing. This isn't your fault, Sam. The only one with any blame is the demon that did this to me. And you'll get him, I know you will."

"I promise, Jess. If it's the last thing I do, I'll get him for you. I'm sorry..."

"Shhh." She put a hand up, brushed his hair off his forehead, let her fingers trail down the side of his face. "This isn't a time for sorrow. It's a time for healing, Sam. You're making your amends to me, and I'm accepting. You can't let your grief consume you. You'll kill this demon, and move on."

"I don't think it's that simple. I have these..."

"Visions? I know. I got the Cliff's notes on your family from the demon before he killed me. The one part of this I'm grateful for. The visions don't mean you have to be a slave to this life. You can still have a real life, if you want it. Just... don't become bitter like your old man, okay?"

Sam laughed. "I've spent my whole life trying to be the anti-Dad."

"You're more like him than you seem to realize. That's not all bad - he's kind of sexy for an old guy."

"Ew. Didn't really want to picture Dad that way." He smiled. "What would I do without you, baby?"

"Crash and burn." She smiled back. "But now you've got Dean watching your back. You'll be fine, Sam. It was good to see you again, babe."

"God, I've missed you." He dropped his head, tearing up a little.

"Don't cry. My beautiful boy... Sam. I've missed you too. But I belong to the dead, and you to the living. I'll be at rest once you need me to be, once the demon is dead. Until then, I'll be here, waiting. And I want you to go on, be happy. Find a cute girl - but not one prettier than me - and settle down, have a houseful of Sams."

"Jess, I can't. I..."

"Shh. You can, if you want to. You can do anything. I love you, I always will. But I have to go."

"Jess, I love you too."

She smiled as she misted away. Sam wiped his cheek and smiled back. He turned and walked back to the car.

 

***

The next morning, Sam was waiting outside, leaning on the rear fender of the Impala with coffee as Dean was arguing with the desk clerk about being wheeled out. Policy at the hospital said all patients needed to be wheeled out in a wheelchair, and Dean was raising hell about it. He couldn't go in and bail them out, because he'd said he was a stranger when he brought Dean in the night before. He finally saw Dean throw up his hands and sit in the chair. As soon as they opened the hospital door, he threw himself out of it and stomped across the street and up the block to where Sam was parked with a great view of the glassed-in admissions area.

"Coffee. Now."

Sam handed over the cup. Dean inhaled the steam for a long moment before snapping the lid off and drinking half the cup in one go.

"Restful night?"

"Dude. All my nurses were GUYS. Not cool, man. But I did get a prescription for codeine out of the doctor." He held up a slip of paper as he gingerly sat down in the passenger seat. "How was your night? Had to beat _that_. See any old friends?"

"Just one." Sam smiled faintly. "You about ready to get out of town then?"

"Definitely. Where to?"

"Does it matter? East, I guess. See what we can pick up then. Light stuff, 'till your ribs heal. Maybe hit Vegas." Sam smiled at Dean.

"Vegas? You're on." Dean slipped on his sunglasses and reclined a little in the seat. "Vegas it is. And no using your freaky powers to beat me at craps, dude."

Sam just laughed and pulled away.


End file.
